


and the forest whispered our names

by rivkael



Series: the days after [1]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Brother Feels, Cat Form, Dalaran, Fluff, Flying, Gen, Illidan Stormrage comes back to Azeroth after legion, Mental Health Issues, ROOF BOYS, SO MUCH FLUFF, The Stormrage twins content we need, Wings, let these boys hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 10:06:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13949298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivkael/pseuds/rivkael
Summary: Malfurion needs a hug.Illidan needs to fly.(set shortly after Illidan’s resurrection)





	and the forest whispered our names

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kangoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangoo/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Monachopsis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12750555) by [Kangoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangoo/pseuds/Kangoo). 



> Um, Thanks Kangoo for egging me on and inspiring me in the first place. you're a great dude!
> 
> This was born out of a desire to make the twins hug. All I needed to do was A) make malfurion very tired (Rift of Aln 7 day cast, anyone?) and B) make illidan happy (flying and illidari will do that to you)
> 
> As a side note, has anyone actually told Malfurion that his brother is alive?
> 
> (Not beta'd. If you spot any mistakes, please tell me in the comments. I'm not entirely happy with this, but Malfurion is hard to write.)

Illidan stared at the fel energies that made up his demon hunters. He couldn’t exactly look anywhere else, seeing as they were lying all over him. This wasn’t a shock. As soon as he’d laid down in the nest they’d built for him in the Fel Hammer they’d appeared. In ones and twos and fours they’d come until pretty much the entire illidari force was curled up around him, some sleeping, some chattering quietly, but all basking and content in the presence of their leader. To be fair, most of them were pretty exhausted now that the campaign on Argus was finally over. They all deserved a good rest. He’d missed them. (It didn't upset him nearly as much as realising he missed Tyrande and Malfurion did). He’d missed their animalistic, almost simple natures, their colours which soothed his spectral vision, even the biting wit of Allari and the tactile nature of his second in command, Slayer Rivkael.

(Rivkael was the one curled up at his side right now, pressed as close to him with her wings wrapped around her and his bodies like a cocoon. He recognised her by her tattoos and her scent, and the way her face was pressed to his side, her arms clutching him tightly.)

Looking around as best he could, and first shifting to get an idea of his movement range, Illidan carefully began to extract himself from the pile. Several of the illidari just gripped him tighter in their sleep, but he managed to loosen their arms, legs and wings, eventually manoeuvring himself upright. (Asha actually hissed at him when he removed her from where she’d been lying over his legs, but he soothed her by laying her into his spot, in the centre of the tangle.)

Once he’d stepped out of the mess (and the hooves made it hard not to tread on things), he glanced back and something warmed within him at the sight of them all curled up todgether. One - Jace Darkweaver - raised his head, whining softly, but before he could speak, Illidan did, in a low rumbling tone.

”Calm yourself, Darkweaver. I’ll be back later.”

Jace looked like he wanted to protest, wings twitching and magic swirling, but he settled back down after a moment. “Of course, my Lord.”

And so Illidan turned and walked out, placing his feet so as to reduce echoes until he was further away. He needed to fly.

(And speak with Khadgar, but mostly fly.)

Stepping through the portal took only a few seconds, and then Illidan was standing on Azerothian soil, breathing Azerothian air, and it was _good._

He’d missed his home world, fiercely and unwillingly and painfully. Outland had always been a poor substitute, not that he’d ever shown it. (Kael’thas and Vashj had had enough on their minds.)

Illidan stretched his wings, checking that none of the muscles were stiff, and then launched himself into the air, a grin stretching his lips as the wind buffeted him. Circling underneath Dalaran, he beat his wings furiously and began to rise up, up to the height of the tallest spire, before diving down to the foot of the stairs that led to the Violet citadel. His landing startled a few people, but he didn’t much care.

Feeling much refreshed, he climbed the stairs three at a time (they were low and he was tall; it would have been ridiculous to go one by one) and peered inside. When he didn’t immediately spot Khadgar, he turned to one of the Kirin Tor guards. “Is Archmage Khadgar available?” He asked as politely as possible in the common tongue.

The high elf was obviously intimidated (by his appearance or the fel magic, or even both), but she put on a brave face. “The archmage is in a meeting currently, sir. He should be out in about an hour.”

Illidan nodded. “I will return.” He took a few steps backwards and launched himself back into the air. He could return to the Fel Hammer, or he could fly some more…

It wasn’t a hard choice. The Fel Hammer was claustrophobic and crowded. Here, Illidan’s freedom was easily taken and kept, with only a flex of his wings between him and the air.

(How had he ever lived in two dimensions? How had he lived, grounded to the earth?)

After a good half hour of adrenaline-fuelled flying, Illidan landed on a roof near the Citadel, only to find someone else already there.

His brother, in the shape of a cat. A pretty standard, unremarkable druid form. However, Illidan had always been able to recognise his twin.

Now, Illidan’s favoured method of dealing with unwanted emotions was avoiding their sources, but something made him stop, and stare.

Malfurion looked _exhausted_. He hadn’t even noticed him standing there, though he wasn’t asleep. He was lying limply on the edge of the roof, staring down at the crowds below. His eyelids kept drifting closed, then opening again.

Illidan folded his arms. Why wasn’t his brother sleeping?

Knowing he wouldn’t be welcomed, he didn’t try to sit, merely watched and waited, either for him to sleep, or notice him.

It seemed Illidan wasn’t the only one who had a brother sense. It only took a few more moments for Malfurion to struggle to his feet, hissing.

Illidan snorted. “I can smell the exhaustion on you from here, brother.” (It was true, he could, both magical and physical.) “Calm down. You know there is no point in me harming you.” (It kind of stung, though, that Malfurion thought he would.) “Lie back down before you collapse.” Malfurion did so. (Rather petulantly, Illidan thought.) “Now, why are you up here rather than in whatever nice rooms they’ve no doubt offered you? And in such a lacklustre form, no less.”

Malfurion huffed, then transformed back into his main form. “Little brother.” He said it in such a tired tone. “What do you want?” He asked in the language of their youth, Darnassian.

Illidan sat down, tucking one leg underneath him and letting his wings fall half-open. “I am curious, that is all, brother.”

Malfurion watched Illidan for a moment, then sighed. “The rooms aren’t well ventilated. I prefer the open air.”

“And the roof? The… cat form?” Illidan clasped his hands and rested them on his knees, scarcely able to believe he was having a civil conversation with his brother.

“Anonymity, and peace.” Malfurion must have been on the verge of fainting to say such things, to speak so candidly to the brother he’d been so hostile towards. Or maybe… maybe time (and Illidan’s death) had softened the anger. “Illidan, I…”

Illidan waited, tension building up when his brother stood up (swaying slightly, but not dangerously), and walked closer.

“Brother?”

Malfurion had sat down right next to him. “I missed you, golden one.” He was slurring his speech. Illidan, shocked and frozen at the old nickname, allowed his brother to lie down and rest his head on his lap. “There are far worse things than you in the world. Forgive me for all I’ve done.”

Looking down at his drained and exhausted brother, how could Illidan say no? He took a moment, though, to push away the shock (even as Malfurion’s arms came up and hugged at his waist, where the illidari had been not an hour before) before replying. “You did so many unforgivable things to me when all I was doing was fighting for our world,” he shook his head and rested one hand on Malfurion’s cheek. “But even after ten thousand years in darkness, the only thing that kept me from your side was the knowledge that you didn’t want me there.” It came out in a rush of words, and Illidan’s heart was beating faster, his wings arching up to protect the pair of them.

“I forgive you.”


End file.
